I need to write a really great short bio piece on Santana – a Cuban artist, whose work I have fallen in love with. His work is mainly modern art, including some views of old Havana, many of which contain political aspects and slogans – one striking one being “Viva lediF”. I am hoping to showcase some of his works in London very soon, and need a bio on him, and perhaps the quality of his art. Any ideas on where to start would be great.

Yesterday, I didn’t do any of that. Instead I made a lasagna – my version of my mother’s version, of a Sicilian version that she got when we went to a pre-wedding party that some Italian-Canadians were having on Lake Erie back in the 1970s. The father of the bride had previously been in the mafia – but had asked to leave, and had. When we went there the men were all playing bocci, (my father winning, although it was the first time he had played – and the last come to that) and the women were taking a break from about 3 days of cooking, including this delicious lasagna. I had never had anything like it before, and it then became my favourite food.

Unlike the lasagna you tend to get in the UK, there is no white cheese sauce in sight. Its layers of rich meat sauce. lasagne, ricotta (or in my mother’s case, home-made cottage cheese, as we couldn’t get such luxuries in Jamaica at the time) and hard boiled eggs. Thats the real unusual bit. And in Jamaica, again because we couldn’t get anything else, we used cheddar cheese, which I love. I used it in mine, but with some Parmesan on the top.

Anyway, it was the first time I’d ever cooked lasagna, and I am happy to report it was a great success.

What do you think the job market is like. It was taking me ages to find a job back in 2001, which is why I ended up coming back to Jamaica. “What’s old is what’s new. Come to our island. We’ll cook you some stew.” That’s how our tourism jingle used to go – or something like that anyway. Now we sing “One Love, one heart, come to Jamaica and feel all right’

Anyway, I am thinking more on moving me and my fledgling family to the UK – if I could find decent employment there. But it seems to me that it is prett dreadful over there right now. and that perhaps my prospects here are a little better.

Quite how my Cuban wife would adjust to the warmth of London or some other place in England is another matter. Not to mention her daughter. I think the upcoming addition could probably adjust better than anyone.

I love Jamaica. But it is a bit of an incubator. All the best chickies fly off to the US, Canada, the UK and just about anywhere. OK – perhaps some of the not-so-good ones as well.

Its not that I hadn’t thought of it before, but several people have warned me to be careful working in May Pen. Careful of what? Careful, basically, of being killed. This isn’t Afganistan – but it isn’t the Cotswolds either.

The highway, which now makes it easy to travel from Kingston to May Pen, also makes it easy for criminals in cars looking for easy targets, such as stores with no security. May Pen has seen a steep increase in violent crime of this nature recently – and I think the highway is part of the reason.

Quite how you go about being careful is another matter. Having your fingers crossed and hoping is one way, but I’m not sure how effective that is. Paying for security is another, but this place is run on a shoestring. And anyway, a guard may paradoxically make the situation worse, as it advertises that you have something (apart from your life) worth protecting.

Apart from the weather, and the fact that we are supposed to be the 2nd most happy people on Earth according to a recent poll, there’s not much good to say about Jamaica at the moment.

I won’t bore you with that. Many of the reasons are identical to everywhere else on the planet.

But we do have a jolly nice highway between Kingston and almost to May Pen, It is soon to be officially named the Usain Bolt Highway in honour of you-know-who, but is currently still called Highway 2000. Its actually a pleasure to drive. Little traffic, thanks to a toll of J$270 or about 1.80 pounds. Thats too much for most drivers, who go on the curvy, colourful, potholey, stress-increasing old road. It might be too much for me too – but hopefully not.

Now, the highway cost Jamaica more than a pretty penny. But it is pleasant to believe for about 30 minutes woth of driving that we are a developed country with developed infrastructure. And though Bogues, the French company which built the road, may not be the most corruption-free of companies – I can’t help wondering if they had a few artists amoungst their engineering team. Jamaica is a beautiful country, but some of the beautiful visatas that you see of the mountains and sugar cane fields, and old aquaducts and abandoned Victorian train stations seem to picture perfect to have been created by an unseeing engineer with a map and a ruler.

Some mountains, or hills if you prefer, which stand out from their neighbour due to shape and positioning, seem to be perfectly framed, the road pointing straight to their peaks. And in the evenings on my eastward drive home, the setting sun adds to the splendour as I glance back through my rear-view mirror.

OK. Startig my second week at this hardware store in May Pen. May Pen is a bit of a dump, but it is a dump where many returning residents are returning to. Returning residents is the term used for Jamaicans who have lived abroad for many years – decades, and who after a lifetime of work and saving come back to Jamaica to settle and die.

Many of them come from the UK – if not most. Especially in May Pen. There are some very large new homes here – a sign of wealthy returning residents, whose UK pensions allow them to live comfortably here, as long as they don’t get sick or fall victim to crime.

Unfortunately the likelihood of them falling victim to crime is higher than it is for most Jamaicans. This is because they are like innocent lambs, who see Jamaica with rose-coloured spectacles, not realising that they are the biggest spectacles of all, with their UK accents. UK manners and mannerisms and their misplaced belief that Jamaica is as genteel as it was 45 years ago.

And May Pen, despite its recent plethora of fast food restaurants, casino, and a few smart shops, banks and supermarkets is basically a thug in rags wearing a nice pair of shoes. Beggars abound. Goats abound. Dust abounds. Its hot. To retire here must be akin to retiring to Gaza. But I suppose if they have a nice comfortable home with adequate security and can drive to the decent shopping plaza, they will be OK.

I suppose they get more bang for their buck here than they would in the cool hills of Mandeville, which has previously been the preferred place for returning residents. But Mandville is far closer to being civilised than May Pen. And its climate, 2000 ft above sea level, is said to be salubrious – and is far kinder to anyone who is returning from the UK. But there is quite a lot of traffic in Mandeville these days – so perhaps that is a turn off. And the cost of living is somewhat higher too. Theres got to be some reason – right?

It ain’t much – but I have found something to do. Its paying me extremely little, way too little for me to mention here, to save myself embarrasment – as its commission based, on sales which are currently low. It will not be able to support me at all, much less anyone else.

And it is a one hour drive out of town, in a place I would rather not spend a minute. And its six days a wek.

But despite all that, its giving me something to do, and hopefully there is something else on the horizion. There are promises, which are great, but I’ve found that they aren’t accepted at super markets. But I am hopeful that something better will turn up soon.

Meanwhile, I am learning some stuff. And there is always the chance this will turn into a gold mine.

I had another 2 week break in Cuba, which was pretty cool, despite staying in a place which was about as far removed from luxury as you can possibly imagine. Just let me say that I think it extremely doubtful that the Queen will be staying there for her next official or private visit to Havana. The plumbing alone (or lack there of) would be enough to ensure that.

But I did get to have a real taste for life in old Havana. Its lively. Its warm. Its loud. And I would do it again. though perhaps this time in an apartment that is a little closer to my liking – even if I do end up paying more than US$5 per day.